


A Twisted Tale

by MKnightium



Category: DC Animated Universe, DCU (Comics)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Major Original Character(s), Multi, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 14:42:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12773226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MKnightium/pseuds/MKnightium
Summary: Gotham is a seedy hellhole where a benevolent saint can emerge from there as the worst scum to ever exist. It is a place where hope goes to die, and that's on a good day.The crime lords of Gotham war for control of the city, and they all have underlings and others to support them in their campaigns to own it all.Follow one of them as he rises above the simple life of a hired thug, and rises beyond even his own expectations and becomes something far greater than he could have been.But, as you all know, greater, doesn't always mean heroic.





	A Twisted Tale

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction. I don't own DC or any of the DC universe characters used here, and I really don't own Gotham or any other DC original locations either. I only own the OCs. If any names are like those in real life, it's coincidence, and not something to be worried about. 
> 
> Reader discretion is advised.

Gotham was never a kind place.

It was the sort of city that could turn even the purest soul into the devil incarnate, in a shockingly short amount of time as well. Fathers had to lie and cheat, mothers betray their husbands for cash, and children grow up witnessing all of this, and develop some very questionable morals.

It was also a cesspool of the worst filth the world had to see: the vicious Black Mask, the cunning Penguin, the dutiful Falcones; many criminal lords dwelled in the city, warring for control among one another in a wide arc of ways such as drug trafficking, gun laundering, and many other means of making money that clearly weren’t savory in the slightest.

With these crime lords, they needed gangs to handle their operations, and in many cases, those very underlings could rise beyond them, and rise above all they stand for.

Like _him_.

 

* * *

 

The warehouse was awash with activity late into the night. Men and women dressed in purple, orange, and green color schemes were working and preparing for something; loading up weapons, priming explosives, and donning either malicious face paint in homage to circus clowns or masks and bandanas with the same gimmick to hide their identities, and to prevent the police from coming for them during the daytime, when it’d be easier to be seen or worse.

To be found far easier by the caped crusader.

In the back of the room, one of the gang members geared up himself; clicking his military knee pads in place over his faded baggy blue jeans, making sure his steel toed boots were tied tightly. He tugged on his cheap Kevlar purchased from an online source, making sure it was secure underneath his purple hoodie; the hood tugged up and over his head to mar the image of his head. He tugged on his black, fingerless gloves, tightening them and strapping them on. He tugged on a purple tinted gas mask, the conjoined visor an orange tinted color, as he exhaled, feeling the filter work. The patches of brown skin visible with his makeshift armor were darkened further even with the moon’s light. A black leather belt was strapped tightly to him, forcibly modified to hold bullets along it; as a holster was slung on his chest, with the handle of a menacing emerald revolver poking out of the black leather holster. That wasn’t his only weapon; slung along his lower back he had a lighter tan sheath, containing it a kukri knife in it, the handle being a brown tinted color. His final weapon was held in his hand directly; a brown hatchet, that would normally be used to chop wood. The weapon was rusty, the head caked with the dirt brown grime, as the handle was a deeper brown color, with some bandages wrapped around it to be used as a makeshift grip. This thug, this Joker Gang Member, was clearly very armed and clearly very dangerous.

“Hey, Noisy Boy,” He turned to look to the speaker, a man with damn near bloody face paint to show his wickedness, with a green tinted mohawk on his head. His attire was simple; a green and purple tee shirt with bandaged up hands and black jeans with tennis shoes; pale skin clearly painted white with makeup. “We’re ‘bout ready to head ‘n over to the spot. Ya ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, Mauler.” His voice was distorted via the mask, but still audible, as the two of them walked to catch up with the rest of the group, boarding one of the many purple painted vans the gang used to mass move to a location. Getting comfortable in the back gave Noisy Boy the chance he needed to tug his revolver from his chest holster, flicking it and spinning the barrel out, checking the ammo count. They were the only two in the van, so they had the free time needed to converse and speak, as the masked thug slid his gun back where it belonged. “What’s the job for the day?”

“Ah, captain said we’re providin’ backup for some of our guys. He said they’re in the process of assaulting a warehouse owned by the Falcones…that Penguin’s also attacking.”

“Shit…the clown wants to send us into a damn three way bout? For what?”

“The captain didn’t say; Joker never him. Could be dough, could be some compounds to make a new Joker Toxin. Could even be a stolen shipment of Venom; you know how hard it is to get nowadays with how defensive Bane and his gang have become.”

“It makes sense; Batman’s got friends now…friends mean more of us get brain trauma and broken bodies. Still…doesn’t that mean we can get attacked here?”

“It’s one of the many risks we have as hired guns for Joker…at any god damn moment, Batman could show up and punch us in the face. Then, we’ll wake up in Blackgate or Arkham, get busted out of jail, and repeat until it finally kills us.” The latter of the two fell silent, Mauler finally clear his throat and making a vain attempt to change the grim subject.

“So…Noisy Boy…what…eh…what kinda name is that?”

“When I show up to a fight, I’m quite noisy. That’s why. And you?”

“I maul bitches; in the streets and in the sheets.” The masked thug merely shook his head, though both of them went quiet when the van stopped, and the sounds of gunfire greeted them.

“Eyes up you two; we’re here.” The Driver kept himself primed and ready to burn off in case the fight got out of hand; Noisy Boy being quick to open the hatch and dive out, the sounds of gunfire, screaming, and other things assaulting his ears. The warehouse was surrounded by Jokers firing and fighting the Falcones and the Penguin’s goons.

Mauler was right; it was a three way showdown and they were running on borrowed time.

“Quick! Behind those crates!” Noisy Boy dove behind the metal crates and pressed his back against it as Mauler followed suit; both shielding themselves when an explosion sounded near them.

Noisy Boy was the first to see that the explosion was their van being blown up by a stray RPG; the driver’s charred corpse on the ground.

“…there’s our way out gone…we’re here to stay for a bit, Mauler.”

“Shit…what…what’s the plan? We’re supposed to help the boys but…how?” A Joker thug walked out from cover, and moments later, his head _exploded_ into brains, bone, muscle, and grey matter that painted the pavement in a messy, horrid fashion.

“We can start by taking those snipers down. They’re Falcones odds are considering they’re on the defensive. There’s a way onto that roof so we can take ‘em out…let me get us moving.” Noisy Boy sprinted from behind his cover and rushed, moving low and quickly to reach the wall of the warehouse.

A Falcone goon was standing there; he didn’t last long. Noisy Boy slammed into him at full speed and tackled him to the ground; driving the kukri knife deep into his ribs and twisting it before bringing the hatchet down and splitting the finely suited man’s skull in two. On his feet, the masked thug moved and grabbed onto the rusted, aged ladder, beginning the ascension to the top as Mauler followed behind as close as he could. Reaching the top was the easy part; the hard part was being prepared.

There weren’t just snipers; there were enforcers and others up there as well; they were smart enough to have people protecting their snipers. Makeshift cover was amassed atop the roof from boxes and crates, and those not sniping were armed with assault rifles and other various weapons for combat.

“Mauler…hand me _it_.”

“It? O-Oh…you mean…that.” The masked thug’s hand was filled with something, and after pulling the pin, he slid it across the ground, and rose. The green gas rose, and the Falcones went through several things, in the span of time it took for Noisy Boy to walk over to one of the snipers and rip the rifle from his hands.

“HAHAHAHAHAH!”

“HAHAHAHAH!”

“HAHAHAHAHHAHAAAAA!”

They were all laughing; the Joker Toxin was working its effects as per intended, and Noisy Boy’s mask thankfully protected him from the debilitating effects of the dangerous gas.

It was one of the reasons he wore it, aside from it hiding his identity and making him look really fucking intimidating.

He watched with…slight horror as the thugs and crooks flailed on the ground, laughing more than they could possibly bear and suffocating…choking. It didn’t take long for them to all perish, and for the gas to fade enough for Mauler to clamber up onto the ceiling as well.

“Always funny to watch that happen…watching then squirm and die in such…agony. Makes me damn near get an erection.”

“Not now, Mauler; we got the snipers down but we’re still not in the clear. Take this sniper and start picking people off; gon’ call the captain and see what the hell was the original objective.” The other clown thug complied and accepted the gun while Noisy Boy moved away from the roof’s edge.

He also shoved away one of the still-smiling corpses of the Falcone goon and dug his cheap phone from his pocket; designed to ensure it was easy to ditch if it was tracked so the police or, god forbid, Batman didn’t discover his real identity.

The number was speedily dialed and Noisy Boy waited only a minute to hear someone pick up in a croaky, aged voice.

“What? Who th’ fuck is this?”

“Noisy Boy; we’re at the location and we’ve killed the snipers.”

“Huh? Well, ‘idn’t expect ya to get shit done.”

“I need to know what the mission is here; what the fuck are we doing out here?”

“Providing support; what else?” Noisy Boy just wished the captain could hear his fucking scowl. “I’m jus’ fuck’n with ya No Bo; Joker wanted us to take that warehouse. He said there’s something in there he wants and ya really don’ wanna get in his way when he wants somethin’. With those snipers down, I’d advise just driving those other gangs right out. No clue how long until the Bats makes his show.” The line went dead and Noisy Boy groaned; standing and hearing another crack ring out, Mauler no doubt taking down another foe.

“Captain said for us to drive these guys out; he knows Batman’s gonna show up and he doesn’t have a proper plan for us to win. It’s just us out here.”

“Well fuck…anyhow it…wait—“ Another crack. “Yeah no, looks like they’re not getting reinforcements; it looks like we can just keep shooting and keep fighting…there isn’t that many of them left out there.” Noisy Boy shrugged and picked up a discarded assault rifle, shaking his head and pulling the magazine out to check the ammo count before sliding it back in, shaking his head.

“The things I do to protect them…alright Mauler, light ‘em up.”

 

* * *

 

The truck pulled back very slowly as another crate was loaded onto it. Various Joker thugs smashed open the boxes to check their contents before hastily piling them into the truck, trying to load as much as they could in before getting it to one of the various hideouts. A stocky, well-built man walked past the various thugs, on the phone with someone, ending the call and nodding before turning to a few key members, Noisy Boy and Mauler being two of them.

“I just got off the line with the captain; said Joker’s pleased with the work we made happen. Baddies are dead and the cargo he wanted captured. There’s more to be done but, for now, all of ya piss off ‘fore Bats shows up. Tomorrow, I’ll call yous to the warehouse and we’ll discuss what’s bein’ done next.” Noisy Boy was first to take off after that was said, Mauler following suit.

“Hey man, thanks again for keepin’ me from getting…well killed out there. Sorta panicked when we first got out here but…well thanks again.”

“I made you a promise when we both got roped into this gang; we’ll look out for one another. I’m sure as shit not gonna break it. Now head on your way…I’m gonna get home.” The masked thug walked away from the warehouse alone and slipped into an alleyway, gradually feeling the toll of the battle take over and thus, he felt drained.

Pain kicked in as well; he reached down and pat his thigh, feeling the pain intensify there. It didn’t take a genius to realize he had been shot in the thigh, and all that ripping and running about had made the wound a lot worse. He had been so hyped up and so jazzed with adrenaline, he didn’t even feel that he had gotten shot, and along his arm, he could feel a slash wound. He had been so focused on completing the job and getting the hell out of there that he made the same mistakes as before, and as a result, he got himself hurt.

Meant he’d need to pay another visit to Doc when he had the chance.

**_Vmmm…vmmm…vmmm_ **

He dug in his pocket for his smartphone, tugging it out and reading the caller ID.

**James Noland.**

He swiped right, and brought the phone up to his ear, tugging his mask off and tossing it to the side as he slumped against the wall; the cars passing by and the various other nighttime noises being the backdrop for his call. His brown skin was covered in sweat and grime from his mask, as his face was more youthful than expected, showing that he was about in his mid-twenties, at best. His stern brown eyes looked around the alley for any foes, as he ran his other hand along his hair; braided into cornrows to aid with his movement a bit…and style.  

“Hey Jimmy…how’s Lisa?”

_“Fine, bro…Gerald…are you okay out there?”_

“Hundred percent. Like I always am; did you remember to pick up the check I sent you?”

_“Yeah but…where’s this money coming from?”_ Noisy Boy fell silent. _“…Ger…is it from that shady work--?”_

“It’s not. Just from this janitorial gig I work. Still, go get some groceries for you and Lisa, okay?”

_“Alright bro…but…just take care out there; it cost a fortune to move us to Metropolis but are you really fine with sticking around in Gotham…even though that’s where dad died?”_ Noisy Boy looked down to his gloved, bloodied hand, and clenched it, exhaling.

“I’m good. I can handle this shithole until I can turn things around and go back to college. I’ll send another check next month. Tell Lisa Gerald says hi, by the way…I’ll see you guys soon.”

_“Alright, man. Stay safe out there.”_

“Always will.” The line went dead and Gerald pulled the phone away, sliding it back into his pocket and sighing. Fumbling a bit, he tugged the other phone out from his pocket and dialed up another number, rising and limping out of the alley and down the mostly barren sidewalk.

“Doc, are you there in the office?”

_“What? Who is this?”_

“Noisy Boy; I got a bit dinged up in a job. Need a bullet pulled.”

_“Damnit! Again?! Augh…c’mon down. I’ll get the tools prepped and some numbing agent ready. You really need to learn to watch yourself out there. I can’t keep patching you up like this without repercussions.”_

“I know. I’ll manage. I have to.” He pulled the phone away and ended the call, sliding the mask back onto his face and making sure it was secure as he continued walking, mulling over his life choices and where they’ve gotten him at this point in time.

It was all just another day in Gotham…another day in Hell.

* * *

 

To Be Continued…

 

* * *

 

(Another story experiment I had in development for…quite some time, actually, facing rework after rework after rework. And with those reworks, some also were regarding if this story should be rated R and on a more adult oriented site, though eventually I decided for a better idea. So, this story will be placed on Archive of Our Own, where I can take some more risks and focus on a story driven element with smut either enhancing the story or allowing more controversial topics to take more risks and to tell a story I wanted to tell ever since 2015, with me getting more invested into the DC Universe with my interest in the Arkham series, that spiraled into this idea; of a lowly thug rising to power through a series of circumstances and becoming far more than ever expected, while also taking on and making his own cleaving in the DC universe.)

 


End file.
